


For All That He Was

by WhiskyNotTea



Series: Whisky's Other Outlander Tales [13]
Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M, Season 1, Show Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 12:51:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17508971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiskyNotTea/pseuds/WhiskyNotTea
Summary: The day when Claire Beauchamp and Frank Randall got married.





	For All That He Was

_“Frank. If you’re still close enough to hear me, I did love you. Very much. You were my first love.”  
_

_Claire, Season 3, Episode 3_

* * *

 

 

I never cared much for clothes. Living with uncle Lamb for fourteen years had taught me one thing: Be comfortable. In yourself, in your choices, in your clothes.

But today was different. Today was the day I would meet Frank’s parents for the very first time.

Frank didn’t talk much of them, but he had said they would like me. I hoped they would. Without having parents of my own, Lamb and Frank’s parents would be our family. And since I had never been particularly adept at making good first impressions, I needed this evening to be the exception to the rule.

We were going to dine at a fancy restaurant in Westminster. It wasn’t far from my flat. Looking out of my window, I was met by a grey, cloudy London day. No rain, though. At least for now.

After spending a considerable amount of time in front of my open wardrobe, I chose a light grey skirt suit. Simple, yet elegant. I tamed my wild curls into something that looked decent, and with a smile, I topped them with the homburg hat Frank had bought for me.

He came right on time to pick me up. It ran in his blood, this scrupulousness. At the beginning of our relationship, I’d kept him waiting more than once. Luckily, Lamb was always there to keep him company. The downside of this, however, was that Lamb and Frank were a terrible combination for conversation. They could spend a whole day talking about the trifling details of a historical event no one had ever heard about - apart from them. Once, their conversation had lasted so long that we had missed our reservation and stayed at home, eating Lamb’s famous bacon and eggs for dinner. So I had soon realized I needed to be ready at the door by the time Frank arrived.

His grin when I opened the door was the best feedback I could ask for.

“You look magnificent, darling,” he said with a soft kiss on my lips.

I smiled and kissed him back, then shouted toward Lamb’s office. “Lamb, we’re leaving!”

“Have fun!” was the response, his voice dull through the closed wooden door.

We walked on the cobbled street holding hands, and as I turned my head to look at him, I took a moment to appreciate how handsome he was. Clear, brown eyes. Aristocratic face. The lines running down his cheeks framed his lips and made his face strong, memorable. Poised, he walked with confident, solid steps - exactly the opposite to my own, humming ones. I liked this stability, the steadiness he provided. He eased my fears and intrigued me in the most fascinating way.

I’d had a lot of adventures in my life. Persia and Egypt had been a challenge every day. A dusty confrontation with ourselves, our limits, and others. An adrenaline high. It was nice to settle down for once. To listen to his deep voice, talking to me about adventures other people had lived, long before we were born. To find a home.

Frank smiled at me and I felt my pulse settling down - quiet, happy. We kept walking briskly, our hands linked between us, going back and forth in a childish, playful manner. I had started it, and he continued with a snort and a shake of his head. We were two blocks away from the restaurant when he abruptly stopped walking.

“Ready?” he asked with a cheeky grin.

I looked at him, confused. “For what?”

He didn’t reply. He slowly turned me around until my gaze fell on the sign.

_City of Westminster. Register Office._

My heart stopped. My throat tightened. A couple was standing at the entrance of the building, smiling broadly to ensure that their happiness would be imprinted on the film and obvious in the pictures destined to adorn the fireplace in their living room.

I turned to look at Frank, gaping. I didn’t know what to say. I kept looking at him, at the honest eyes, the wide smile. He was holding both my hands now, in his usual gentle way.

I laughed. “Now?” I asked incredulously.

“Why not?” he said, with an almost imperceptible shrug. Hope danced in his eyes.

Yes, I thought. I could spend my life with him. With this gentle man, sometimes stern for the people who didn’t know him, but always warm with me. Focused on his work, on his plans, I too had thought him boring, predictable at first. But it was the subtle things he did, that had won my heart. The surprises that broke the facade he had created for the rest of the world. The way he swung his hand along with mine when we walked. The sweet good morning kisses he planted on my lips. The loud laughter that filled the house when we were alone. The flowers he slipped inside my pockets or my wallet when my attention was otherwise engaged.

His unorthodox proposal.

Yes, I thought, and a smile spread on my face. I  _was_  comfortable with Frank. For all that he was, and for all that he made me be. I loved him.


End file.
